


Regrets

by dancergrl1



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Anger, Drinking to Cope, F/M, Gen, Never enough, This is me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 22:11:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16543247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancergrl1/pseuds/dancergrl1
Summary: We know how Anne dealt with Phillip dropping her hand during the concert, but what about Phillip?





	Regrets

**Author's Note:**

> So I rewatched the movie today and, well, have at it.

Anne felt him tense a moment before he dropped her hand. She had followed his gaze, saw the people staring. People stared every day, but somehow, his rejection hurt more.   
\---  
It took everything in Phillip to not walk after her, run after her, dip her low and kiss her. But this wasn’t the time, wasn’t the place to do that. Wasn’t right. 

It hurt, the look he felt her bore into him. It hurt, hellish and felt as if it left a burn behind. 

The concert ended, and he made a hasty exit. He didn’t need to be at the party to know Barnum would be glad-handing, thanking people for coming and savoring in the praise he was receiving. Phillip didn’t need to be a part of that. 

It wasn’t his place.

He found himself back at the circus, staring at a wall but only seeing the hurt he imagined on Anne’s face, the pain he must’ve inflicted on her. It was tearing him apart. 

The band began to filter in, drums being warmed up. 

He heard the troupe arrive, shouting and...angry? 

Barnum. It was rarely something else. 

He’d heard the wires creaking for a while, heard WD call Anne down, heard her protest. 

Heard, or maybe imagined, the hurt in her voice, the thickness behind her words. 

He stepped into the shadows of the window, watched as the troupe began to perform. The crowd was sold out, as it always was. They were gaining popularity each day, and Barnum reveled in it. Drank in the lights, the cheers, the colors. 

Philip simply drank. It disgusted him, but damn if it didn’t burn the guilt and the fear and the anxiety away. He took another sip from his flask, grimaced as it went down. It burned like always. 

He took a wrong step forward, meeting Anne’s angry, flashing, hurt brown eyes as she performed. He hated that he was the cause of that anger, righteous though it was. 

The evening wore on, the troupe continuously furious and channeling it into their charged performance. Anne and WD performed new tricks, everything was fresh and energized. 

But Phillip still felt the undercurrent of wrath. He bore it all with grace, poise, and whiskey. 

He hated to admit that evening, long after the building was quiet, long after ropes and knives and fire had been secured, he drank. He fished out every bottle of alcohol he had, lined it up, and drank it. He wasn’t sure which way was up or down by the time Lettie found him in his office, long past midnight, surrounded by glass shards. 

“Phillip.” He stirred, moaned, and resettled.

“Carlyle.” He propped half aware, glassy eyes a third of the way open. 

She shook her head. He was a sad sight. 

“She’s angry, but she’s hurt. Pull yourself together.”

With that, and a swish of her dress, she left. 

He swore. He’d thought he was alone. 

He cried, for the anger he’d caused, for the hurt he’d caused this group, this family of misfits that, somehow, he felt more a part of than his blood family. 

He slept, the alcohol taking him under it’s sweet spell for the night. 

He couldn’t find the words to protest when Barnum left on tour with that Lind woman. 

He couldn’t channel Barnum’s presence when the protestors came every night, throwing peanuts and popcorn and hurtful words. 

He couldn’t find the right words to get the protestors to leave.

Then his world went up in flames, and he ran back in to find her. 

He couldn’t let her go like this. Not tonight, not when she still thought he didn’t want her.

Not like this. Not tonight. Somehow, he hadn’t found the words, but he’d found the courage.


End file.
